Page 58 of More Than Pen Pals

“It always is.” He takes a swig of his beer.

Bobby and I talk throughout the rest of the game. The man is amazingly down to earth, especially for someone with his reputation. I’m beginning to think the reputation is the front and I’m seeing the real Bobby Jacobs.

When Leslie comes inside after the game’s over, I approach her and ask, “You ready to go find the car, or do you need to stay and talk to Diego?”

She still won’t look at me. “I don’t need to stay. And I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to share a ride. Why don’t you take it?”

There’s no way I’m letting her make her own way home while I ride in a hired car. “No, the car is yours.”

“Ash—”

“Leslie,” Bobby says from beside me, “I’m sorry to steal Ash away from you, but I’m not done with this guy. We have a few more things to discuss. I’ll make sure he gets back.”

She nods, shakes Bobby’s hand, gives me an indecipherable look, and heads out the door.

“What else do we need to discuss?” I ask Bobby. We’ve been talking for the past hour.

“Nothing,” he says. “She was prepared to argue with you about the car, but she doesn’t know me well enough to fight me over it.” He glances at the door. “You’d better fix whatever’s happening here, though. I need her to be in top form for Diego.”

There’s nothing I can do to fix it.

twenty-nine

What is wrong with me? Why did I treat Ash the way I did? Well, I know it’s because I’m jealous of Melissa Teague, but that doesn’t excuse my actions.

I find the car and wish I could tell the driver to take me home, but it’s not five o’clock yet, and even if it were, I need to go back to the office and get some work done. Regardless of what’s going on in my personal life, I have a job to do, and I want to do it right. Diego’s career shouldn’t suffer because I can’t focus.

As the car threads its way back downtown, I stare out the window. I read every sign and look at each face in a failed attempt to not think about Ash or Glenn.

When I enter the office, Wendy is in the lobby chatting to our receptionist. She takes one look at my face and follows me down the hall. She closes my office door behind us, grasps my arm, pulls me to her, and wraps her arms around me. I squeeze her tightly.

“What happened?” she asks when I finally pull away from her and drop into my chair. She perches on my desk instead of taking her usual spot in the purple chair.

“Ash went to the game, too. We shared a car on the way there, and I let it spill that Glenn called me and wants to get back together. Then a woman Ash knows from childhood was at the game, and she’s having dinner with his family tomorrow night, and they were real friendly, and I’m a mess and want to go home, but I’ve got so many things to do for Diego that I can’t.”

“Hold. The. Phone. Leslie Beckett, what’s this about your ex wanting to get back together? When did this happen?”

I forgot I didn’t tell her about Glenn. I was hoping I could call him, realize once and for all I never want to get back with him, and nobody but Aunt Star ever needed to know. So much for that plan.

“Wendy, please don’t get mad at me for not telling you. I can’t handle it.”

“Okay, I won’t. Tell me what’s going on and we’ll see if I can help.”

“Nobody can help. I’ve gotten myself into a huge mess, and I don’t need to drag anyone else into it.”

“Honey, I’m your friend. This is what friends do—help each other figure out how to get out of the messes they create for themselves. Without judgment, I might add.”

Tears fill my eyes. “Thank you.” Then I tell her about Glenn’s message and what happened with Ash at the game.

“Okay,” she says when I’m finished. “First off,” she holds up one finger, “you and I are going out tonight and having some fun. Second,” she holds up another finger, “I don’t think talkingaboutGlenn is going to help. You need to talktohim. Do you want to call him before or after we go have some fun?”

“Before. Definitely before. I need to get it over with.”

“Good.” Another finger goes up. “And third, if Ash says he doesn’t want to date that woman, he doesn’t want to date her. Forget about her. Got it?”

I nod.

She extends one more finger. “Fourth, and most pressing, you need to get some work done. Spend ninety minutes doing whatever you need to do for Diego. Then go home, call Glenn, cry, call me so I can come over and you can tell me all about it while you get dolled up, and then we’ll go out, even if it’s midnight by then. I’d ask if that’s okay, but I’m not taking no for an answer. That’s the plan for the rest of the day … and likely half the night.”

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